


Chasing Perfection

by JessiRomantic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindfolds, Chocolate, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Food Kink, Food Sex, Licking, Nipple Licking, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Sex and Chocolate, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessiRomantic/pseuds/JessiRomantic
Summary: Blaise Zabini is a perfectionist in all things, and Daphne is the thing he wants to perfect.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 18
Kudos: 21
Collections: Career Day: A Dumbledore's Armada Flash Fic Competition





	Chasing Perfection

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Career_Day](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Career_Day) collection. 



> **Prompt:** Chef
> 
> I would like to thank my alpha/beta hslades for helping me with this! She really helped this be as sexy as it is :)
> 
> This was such fun to write, and so out of my comfort zone!

Blaise Zabini was a perfectionist. Being a perfectionist, he did not accept any imitations.

When in the kitchen, Blaise’s perfectionism came out in its truest art form. He was a firm believer in simple, fresh ingredients in his recipes. Only the best quality would do. Seasonal fruit and vegetables, fresh line caught fish, free range eggs, grass-fed beef. Every bite should bring fireworks to the tastebuds. 

He learned from the Italian masters, touring the country to become an expert in how they use the tomato in Napoli, beef in Piedmont, parmigiana in Bologna. He would explore the family-run restaurants along the backstreets of major cities. He listened to the grandmothers who had been feeding generations about how much basil to put in a ragu or try to charm what that magic ingredient is in their risotto out of them.

Daphne’s body was another conversation that he had with himself every time they were together. She was his muse. When he tasted her, whole menus were written and rewritten. Her skin tasted like strawberries. The taste of her was something he wanted to recreate in his dishes until his dying breath. 

He would see it as a personal challenge to find the best way to bring the most delectable notes out of her. That was why when he had invited her over for the evening he was found in the kitchen, cooking the most delicious chocolate sauce. Not too sticky, not too bitter, not too sweet. Simple. Perfection. It was enough to tease the senses and excite the tastebuds. He was sure to guarantee that the temperature of the liquid was not too hot, not too cold.

It was the perfect accompaniment to her sweet, soft, supple skin.

Laid on his bed, blindfold over her eyes, wrists bound and tied to the bedpost, Daphne was not sure how she had allowed herself to show this blatant vulnerability to him. She gasped as she felt the sauce drip onto her abdomen and moaned at the sensation of his warm tongue lapping the dark liquid from her walnut colour skin. She whimpered when his attentions halted abruptly but when she felt him unexpectedly cover her breasts in the warm sauce she let out a sob of pure ecstasy. His attention was broad at first but soon focussed on her nipples. He masterfully worked them into taught, hard peaks. Nipping, licking, lapping. Her body arched into his ministrations. Blaise never once used anything but his skilled tongue and the delectable chocolate to bring her pleasure.

He was a man starved when it came to her. She was sustenance.

He worshipped every inch of her body with his meticulous mouth. Licking and sucking and kissing and tasting her. From her toes, to her knees, to her collar bone. Her body was on fire with every stroke. He knew every detail of her body, every part that would make her twitch and groan. Every time his mouth met her skin, he teased her into a frenzy that made her ache to touch him and strain against her bindings. Her hands gripped her restraints to pull herself closer to his caresses. With the deprivation of sight and the addition of the sensation of the warm sauce being dripped, spread, brushed against her sensitive skin made her putty in his hands.

Eventually, his attentions sharpened on her dripping pussy.

Her arousal tasted like honey. Sweet and warm and smoky.

This part of her body was his favourite to taste. It did not need any garnish or flourish, it was pure delight to taste all on its own. It had a delicate unique taste, and he would never ruin it by adding to it. Firmly holding her hips down, he feasted on the nectar of the Gods. He could spend hours there, between her thighs, making her writhe and moan and arch and buck, and never tire. Some nights that was all he did. Praising at the altar of her body without ever being inside her. Without her touching him. Tonight was one of those nights.

When he had made her come undone once, twice, thrice, and she had finally collapsed exhausted he had covered her with the duvet and left the bed to move into the kitchen to get to work on his new creation.

Dark chocolate panna cotta with honeyed walnuts, and topped with a single strawberry.

Perfection.


End file.
